CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - REBECCA II

Rebecca stood atop the shattered roof of what had once been a corporate tower, its skeletal frame jutting into the evening air like the ribs of some long-dead titan. The wind tugged at her cape, dusting her skin with fine grit. Below and behind her, the skyline of New Delhi lay broken and bruised, buildings bowed or toppled, their shadows stretched long in the reach of twilight. 

Another battle survived. Another city scarred. But life was returning, grid by grid. 

The air stirred behind her, boots landing light on the cracked concrete. She didn’t move.

“Alexandria,” said Superman.

His voice was calm. Clear. And maddeningly sincere.

She finally turned. Even now, after everything, she still had to look up.

“Superman,” she said, inclining her head once. “I wondered how long you’d stay here.”

“I had hoped to speak with you,” he said, offering a small, apologetic smile, though she wondered what reason he had to do such. “And I was… still helping with recovery efforts.”

Of course, he was.

She studied him for a moment, her gaze narrowing slightly. His suit was torn, scorched in places, streaked with ash and blood that wasn’t his. His hands hung at his sides, fingers still. He didn’t sway, didn’t slouch—but he seemed worn all the same. Not tired—never tired—but burdened in a way only the invulnerable could be, carrying weight that no wound could explain.

“You didn’t come to talk about Behemoth.”

“No.” He closed the distance. No aggression. No threat. “There’s someone missing. A girl. Noelle.”

Her expression didn’t change, but something behind her eyes stilled.

“Trickster,” he added. “He told me she went missing after Coil’s death in Brockton Bay. I followed the trail as far as I could, but it just… ends. Like she’s not even on Earth Bet anymore.”

“You want to help him?” she asked, tone unreadable.

Trickster was part of the Travelers—a known villain group. So why help a villain? Was it pragmatism? Or was there more to him than she’d assumed?

“I want to help her.”

She sighed internally. Of course he did.

She turned away again, staring out over the broken city. For a long moment, all she could hear was the wind and distant sirens.

Then, she spoke: 

Don’t tell anyone I told you this. Not your friends, not the PRT, not even your conscience.”

She hadn’t informed anyone at Cauldron of her decision. No warning, no approval sought. It wasn’t impulse—she’d considered the consequences, weighed the risks. She had meditated on it in the quiet hours after the crisis, when silence offered clarity. And in the end, she’d come to a conclusion that felt inescapable.

This was the best way forward. Not the safest. Not the cleanest. But the one that might actually lead to something better.

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to keep a secret?”

“Consider it a test,” she replied, turning to look at him once more. “Noelle is alive. Or—she was, when I last saw her. We took her somewhere secure. Somewhere… outside everywhere.”

Superman took a step forward, voice carefully even. “Where?”

Alexandria held his gaze, scrutinizing the intensity in his eyes. There was no anger there. No righteous fury. Only concern. And that made it worse, somehow. Because she knew he wouldn’t be swayed by arguments or shame or half-truths. He wouldn’t let it go.

“It’s called Cauldron,” she said. “An organization that exists in the shadows. We formed it years ago. Eidolon, Legend, myself, and a few others.”

He said nothing, but the silence between them grew heavy, oppressive.

“We created it to prepare,” she continued. “To act where no one else could. To make the hard choices—inhuman ones, if we had to. We knew something worse was coming. Scion. We built Cauldron to fight him… before anyone else even knew he was real.”

Superman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Inhuman how?”

“Cauldron make capes,” she said flatly. “We sell powers. Control who gets them. Manipulate events—guide crises, seed heroes in key positions, and plan for the day we’d need to stop Scion.”

“You sell powers.”

“We have our reasons.” Her tone was steel. Cold and final. “And we kept the world alive long enough for you to show up. That has to count for something.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s not about credit. It’s about responsibility. And consequences.”

Her jaw tightened. “I know exactly what our actions cost. I counted every loss. Every failure. Every unintended consequence. I paid in blood, and sleep, and sanity. Don’t think for a second that I’m proud of what we did. But I’d do it again and again and again until I can’t no more.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t have to.

“Where’s Noelle now?” he asked instead.

“I’ll take you,” she said quietly. “But once we go through that door… you don’t get to look away. You don’t get to pretend the world is as clean as you want it to be.”

“I never thought it was.”

She searched his face—still hoping, maybe, to see judgment or revulsion. Something she could recognise and fight against. But it wasn’t there. Just that relentless, unshakable need to do the right thing.

So she turned toward a bare stretch of rooftop, lips pressing into a thin line. Then, softly, she spoke:

“Door me.”

A line of glowing blue light split the concrete—silent, seamless, and impossible—and a doorway unfolded from nothing as reality peeled back.

She looked over her shoulder.

“Last chance to turn back.”

Superman stepped up beside her without hesitation.

“I’m not here to judge,” he said. “I’m here to help.”

And together, they walked through the door.